#henry x penny

[milfsincrime]

emily: it’s never been more over than it is now

penny: what happened now?

henry: my mom fell asleep without telling her “goodnight”

[shinehalley]

I just realized that most of my shipps are "be gay do crimes" or "be gay prevent crimes" and I'm freaking out over this revelation

[akinmablog]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Penny Dreadful (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Victor Frankenstein/Dr. Henry Jekyll Characters: Dr. Henry Jekyll, Victor Frankenstein Additional Tags: Pre-Canon Summary:

Henry stormed into the dormitory, slamming the door behind him before bashing his fist into the wall, pacing the floor until the overwhelming need to scream won out and a primal noise fought its way through his throat. He grabbed his hair, tugging at the roots, before slumping onto his bed. He fell back onto it and squeezed his eyes shut, tightly gripping his hair.

Lord Hyde, Professor Matthews, Brantley Smith II, Doctor Francis –

*

Henry Jekyll returns to the dormitory after an infuriating encounter with one of his professors.

[tvshowscouples]

If you love Desmond&Penny (Lost) and you want reblog or like,this is the link of my reblog couples :)

thank you!

[something-tofightfor]

I promise. I love you.

Fifteen years ago, The Constant premiered.

It’s my favorite episode of Lost, and might be my favorite episode of any TV show I’ve ever seen.

Lost Rewatch - 4x05 The Constant

“Your perception of how long your friends have been gone, it’s not neccisarily how long they’ve actually been gone.”

[delicrieux]

. . . l'oeuf

˙⋆✮ summary. just another evening at henry's.

pairing. henry winter x f!reader warnings. smoking, swearing, mentioned drug use, bad aspirin use specifically, use of alcohol, +18 (p n v sex, no condom henry DOES NOT care, very minimal dirty talk), pretentiousness, an inkling of classicism, bunny™ wc. 6.9k ✧˖°.

author's note. happy october everyone ! i always wanted to write smth for the loml henry winter but i never had the patience to sit down and do it. well, now i did. this was written with prompt 1. thick, acrid smoke. feel free to rqs more for the prompty thingies! x . . . side note! the fic is named by this song since i listened to it while writing. you can draw a metaphor from it if willing

creds. hd., div.

mlist | buy me coffee ♡ྀ

it was at the start of october on that fateful senior year that you had found yourself in henry winter's illustrious townhouse. from the lacquered brazillian hardwood floorboards to the ivory plasterwork on the ceilings – every corner pertained a certain degree of finery that reflected poorly on the rest of its objects: a well-worn armchair perpetually stuck in henry’s physique and fraying at the edges, the trampled rug that snaked upstairs and held all of your secrets, the coffee table with too many wine stains. in the dim light, the dried rorschach looked like blood.

the present company consisted of six and was slowly dwindling. your dear friend francis, the only boy who had never cared to peek up your skirt in childhood tennis practice, was a moment from collapsing into himself like a weary, old star. holding a champagne coupe from which he exclusively drunk only campari, he had thrown himself over henry’s couch not unlike a discontent lead from a penny dreadful novel. his face kept twisting according to the sounds: bunny’s voice was met with pursed lips and a tightly shut eye (only one, closest to bunny’s person sat by the aforementioned coffee table), charles’ – with a look of defeated boredom, and in the odd bouts of silence and music, bliss.

you offered him a cigarette, and he barely managed to crane his neck to kiss the knuckles of a helping hand before he snatched it away and searched his pockets for a lighter.

sweet camilla sat by the fire, with her knees drawn to her chest. one black stocking was torn on the side, rippling up her calf and sneaking into her inner knee, an action bunny had noted and all had taken particular interest in. there had been a metaphor about literature resembling her glossy stockings – all that language and reference weaved into a fabric that stretched till it could no more, thus marking the end of innovation and intertextuality. a book can only fit so much, and as all of them cared for ancient greek only – a language that no one spoke, and so, could never refine past its perfect state – the topic soon waned in favor of more brandy.

bunny cowed a story about richard papen, the outsider that had joined their coterie, who was not present, as he had not been invited. he was a fine orator, had a specific sense of humor that, while not always understood, could charm an audience when fidgeted with enough. only bunny was too drunk, and his glass of whiskey kept spilling on his trousers till it left an undignified blotch crowned by cigarette ashes, which only painted him a blubbering buffoon. ‘the fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool,’ came to mind as you admired the embers dancing in the halo of his blond hair.

then, there was charles, drunk as always, who had opted to lay by camilla’s feet, the place where bunny’s drunken attempts of metaphor had landed him.

lastly, there was henry, your own personal virgil, who had not wanted you to come, but allowed it still. he looked tired from across the room, an arm thrown over the cushions of the armchair in which he sat. in his left hand he held a book, a cover and a title too out of frame for your eyes to see; amber reflected in his wiry glasses, the color of his brandy bottle (half empty) before the orange glow of the fire burned it copper. a plume of cigarette smoke curled into the ceiling from his two fingers. only he could have full concentration among the chaotic symphony in the living room.

the record spun to silence, and you quickly abated your seat on the windowsill to pad to the cabinet and change the vinyl. the collection of classics had not increased since your last visit, which was roughly a week ago, and it had not changed since henry moved out the dorms during the winter of your junior year. there were chopin’s nocturnes and etudes, beethoven’s piano sonatas, and wagner’s tristan and isolda, just to name a few. something lulling, quiet. you picked debussy and placed the needle. lilting, soft and steady, like you supposed love would feel.

instantly, you were met with bunny’s ire.

“no, no,” a wave and a body too weak to stop you. you ensured he was gifted your most sly smile, “no, woman, put on somethin’, somethin’ grand,” a larger wave, like a poorly coordinated conductor, he smacked his hand too close to francis’ head. a groan from charles, as if he had grown nauseous from watching the motions, “somethin’ for me and charlie here,”

charles tried to turn away in his discontent, yet did not manage. camilla, concerned, laid a hand on his shoulder, “should we go? i think we should head home.”

“see?” bunny’s accusing tone found you once more, “you’re scaring the guests. put on some real music. like the... the...” he trailed off, lighting another cigarette. for good luck, one could imagine, “like goddamn— listen to led zeppelin, man! the rolling stones!”

you glanced to henry and found yourself surprised. a shared look.

“no such things in our humble repertoire,” you stated.

“mile davis, at least?”

“no,”

“i don’t believe you,”

“you’re free to check for yourself.”

amidst this small argument, which was much too common when dealing with bunny, camilla had somehow managed to wrestle charles into standing on his own two feet. unstable, he leaned onto his sister, the added weight making her stagger.

“goodness, take care of charles,” bunny whined, though his complaints never amounted to more than simple sulking. you chose not to pay them much mind.

it was henry that helped, carefully balancing his book on the armrest and coming to take charles from camilla’s embrace.

“should i drive you home?” he asked.

camilla shook her head, en route to retrieve her red scarf and new coat, “no, no, we’ll call a taxi.”

it was always mildly fascinating watching the two interact. camilla, never able to meet his gaze directly and for too long, and henry, who only ever extended wordless aid without prompt or reason to her only. what had she done to earn such favor was beyond you – beyond everyone, perhaps – but you were certain you weren’t the only one that saw this careful act of piety and kindness.

you observed them shuffle out after moments on the telephone, camilla’s hand ghosting henry’s arm, or grazing the bend of his elbow, and only when they disappeared past the large door to wait for the taxi did you look away.

loving henry winter was a sisyphean task, unworthy of the effort which it required. you thought yourself too smart for it, and thus, never cared to entertain the notion, not even when he kissed you.

you caught bunny staring at you: not scrutinizing, not calculating – simply staring. a curious leer that often fell on you after some semblance of mirth had worn down. almost shy, somewhat longing.

“this richard of yours,” you began, helping yourself to henry’s lucky strike. out of all the brands that you had smoked, this was the most bitter and always left a tart taste in the back of your throat. you craved it, “papen, was it?”

“yup,” bunny mumbled into his glass.

“and how is he?” your gaze jumped from him to francis.

“poor,” bunny said.

“californian,” francis tacked on.

“but he pretends he isn’t,” bunny continued.

“californian?” your brows rose. the smell, the taste – too powerful, almost choking.

“no, no,” bunny shook his head, disoriented for a moment, “rich. pretends to be rich. see, i didn’t tell you this, but,” and he reached for henry’s cigarettes, too, even if his own pack laid abandoned, two-three left untouched. he did this, at times, this odd mimicry: you smoked, he smoked what you did, you drank, he drank what you did, you decided a getaway to italy was your dream destination for a week and later learned he had haggled henry into buying tickets for the two of them, “but i, you know me: never judge a book by its cover, i say. invited him to dinner. the usual place, the one on-”

“god,” francis winced, and if he could move, surely he’d flee, “stop talking.”

“the lady asked, am i to deny her now? i thought he wouldn’t show, but he does, doesn’t he? with a goddamned tweed jacket, like i wouldn’t notice,” he hiccupped mid-explanation, the liquor long congealed into his system, “and, you know, me, i know people. i know people. i see them for what they are, and i knew he was a no good cheat from a mile away, but hey,” a straight spine, a bit proud, “i think to myself, you know what, old man, i’m gonna give this guy a chance. pop’s always-”

“aspirin,” francis interjected, this time directed at you, “bring me some, would you, juliet?”

you snorted, “a moment,”

“thank you, desdemona. you’re a midsummer night’s dream,”

“she’s from othello,”

“my point stands.”

you sauntered off into henry’s kitchen and scoured his cupboards for painkillers. the layout of this place you knew too well – perhaps, even, if you closed your eyes, you could discern each obstacle and map it in front of your eyes with the grace and certainty of a guidebook. you did just that.

behind you, a sudden coldness pierced through the humidity and a door shut harshly. the influx of fresh air was a brief slap to the face.

it’s been silent for a while now.

“what are you doing?” henry’s voice, not close, yet not too far. always observing at a distance, since closeness was never his intention. henry winter. what a fitting name.

“looking for aspirin.”

the tick of an unseen clock.

“top drawer,” there was no urgency; something you didn’t understand was what made him hurry to answer, “i hid them there. bunny keeps stealing my entire cabinet.”

your eyes fluttered open, “my, my. what a snitch,”

“don’t give him the aspirin,”

“it’s for francis,”

“very well.”

an impasse. you closed the cabinet and thought against bringing water with you, knowing it’s unneeded.

“may i?” henry asked, and when you turned to look at him, he was as always – unbreakable, unmovable. expectant, perhaps, his heavy gaze a familiar pressure upon your cheekbones, the curve of your jaw, your swollen mouth (from biting, not being kissed).

“they’re yours,” you said easily, turning the cap and spilling a few into the bed of your palm as he approached, “here.”

to make matters harder, there’s but a foot of space between the two of you. the smallest separation, every part of him and every part of you entangled into one odd constellation. an immensity of motion before him and an immensity of energy after.

“water?”

“whiskey.”

“is it also hidden?”

“no.”

so you retrieved him a glass, and then the bottle, and lastly you poured the amount enough to swallow in one gulp. when he took and drank, and you watched his adam’s apple bob, you wondered, briefly and hazily, was your act in any way similar to camilla’s. a star that constantly drew him into her orbit.

“you didn’t leave,” he uttered quietly, tired eyes flicking to the maw of the kitchen opening. down the foyer, the firelight danced. bunny’s voice rose in a toast, no doubt to shake francis out of his stupor.

“i did,” you said, a slow smile curling, “what you see before you is a specter. the delirious imaginings of an impoverished mind.”

“ridiculous,” the quirk of his eyebrows: mock-offended.

“amusing,” the narrow of your eyes: contagious, “was everything my spirit foretold the same as you saw it unfold?”

weariness. you looked for it and found it easy enough. his fingers flexed, his tongue went behind his teeth. the cogs turned. for all his genius, henry was too susceptible to fable and entirely too superstitious. he could ward himself off it well, yet when his inhibitions were down, there was a hint of something else, a spark of pious faith in the impossible, what not might come next. he kept looking at you for an extended moment, until the corner of his mouth, minutely, drew up into a not-quite-smile.

“hermia!” came francis’ voice from the other room, “i’m dying.”

henry said nothing.

you expected bunny drunkenly swinging an almost empty bottle around to try and cheer up francis (it rarely worked, unless it was wine), and yet, he wasn’t there. the living room felt very big, somehow, devoid of him and the makings of his gullible heart.

“and where is bun?” you questioned, almost scolding.

“bathroom,” francis succeeded sitting up, yet only just.

you heard henry curse under his breath. he disappeared, and soon you heard the continents of a stomach emptying down the hall and henry’s monotone behind a closed door.

“time to end this sabbath, me thinks,” you said. francis took the pills with a fresh glass of campari, nose scrunching from the taste.

“d’you think henry could drive me home?” francis asked.

“do you trust him with your life?”

“do you think he’d let me die?”

“depends,”

“no. i’ll cab it,”

“wise decision.”

henry returned, seemingly exhausted from his small adventure. no one followed after.

“bun?” you asked again, which seemed to displease him. he only shook his head. passed out, then. unfortunate, yet expected. if bunny could somehow gain authority over all of henry’s things – even the minute ones, the ones that don’t matter and exist in the peripherals without henry’s notice – he would. it was the same reason francis once insisted that bunny had been in love with you.

the incident occurred during your first year of college in early november. a rather somber and chilly day with leaves sticking to wet asphalt and stone walls amidst the rainy season. a monday. bunny had broken his ankle and complained terribly about it, and henry, who had become his caretaker, was sick of it and instead abhorred him. by accident and complete mischance, the handling of bunny corcoran had fallen onto your graceful shoulders, and in a single day – full of obsolete complaints and impulsive questions – the theorized affection was born.

if there was a way in which bunny’s countenance had changed in your presence, it was lost on you, for your attention, at the time, was solely pilfered by charles. he was, back then, the most handsome of the greek class, and oddly enough, the only one pleasant, thus you sought his favor. but charles never returned your fondness, no matter how minuscule it could be, and he never gave the impression of fleeting interest. only sometimes, when he thought you would not catch him, he would stare at you for a bit too long. you never got to figure out what he had thought in those moments.

instead, you figured yourself an actor – a pretty one at that – and decided to ignore this indelicate sort of charm and pursue a new mark. there were many, of course, plenty of faces to consider, yet the outcome was always the same. as it were, they were all terribly boring and reminded you greatly of the peers you’ve encountered in private schools, the self-proclaimed intellectuals of the new age that had too much time and too much heartbreak on their hands. good looks aside, not the slightest hint of culture nor comprehension, just money and nothing to show for it.

and then there was henry, of course, so quintessentially different that his existence, still, was hard to define. something outside the realm of you. something above or beyond, or perhaps below – always somewhere you could not reach. there was an irrecoverable arrogance to him and in his aloof demeanor. an inviolable space that never invited others.

yes, there had to be some appeal to the strangeness of him, yet never could you put your finger on what exactly it was. at least, not immediately. at first sight, though, there were more poetic reasons to it – of the tragic and of the divine kind, yet that was no truth but some novel-born whim, a pointless obsession, some meager infatuation. an involuntary fetish. he had not wanted you, which only made it so that you wanted him in turn. it wasn’t an ugly thing – it simply was.

he must’ve known. henry always seemed to possess the knowledge of things you had never dared to question or to think twice of. or, perhaps, maybe not: but, despite your inability to identify the cause of it, there was a certain change to your disposition upon entering his shared room. one, maybe, akin to the sudden fear brought by dark enclosed spaces, though a bit more subtle and complex.

it was, ironically, a winter’s night.

when you phoned the same taxi and requested it’s return, francis spoke in a hazy murmur, sluggishly trying to shrug on the coat you brought him, “god, i really need a cigarette.”

“hm?”

“do you see mine anywhere?”

a rueful search, hands grabbing the scattered glass and hardbound that littered the surface of the coffee table. a valiant attempt to move the couch cushions and dip fingers into the cracks.

“no,”

“well, fuck me,”

henry offered his, but francis refused. the living room lit up in that thick, acrid smoke anyway.

the foyer echoed with your footsteps. outside the townhouse, rain had started again. a few drops at first, tapping the windows, before quickly it grew and gained weight. soon, it was battering against the glass.

with your scarf in your hands you suddenly found yourself unsure what to do with it. the taxi was coming and it was time to go home and plead to a higher power for reprieve from the headache you knew would cripple you in the morning. perhaps, an afternoon tomorrow to mull around, dazed. yet there was no respite in any of that. you realized, then, with this abrupt trepidation, that the cause of your discomfort, or the cause that exacerbated it, was within this confided space. a chasm-deep disquiet, like an open mouth of a ravine, dark and shadowy, or the pull of a tide at sea, which was, as they say, irresistible to even the most levelheaded.

somewhat uneasily, you lingered by the coat hanger, and when francis ambled over, tripping over his own two feet, he downed the rest of his campari and shoved the glass into your useless hands. then, he kissed your cheek, quick and wet, before ripping the door open and shoving it closed behind you, hence halting your escape.

the house was deafened, and your palms itched. the overwhelming urge to twiddle with your scarf became unbearable, or it was because a pair of eyes bore into you from the depths of the room. the closest thing you’ve ever considered to a tangible aura: the smell of ozone and rain water and tobacco.

“don’t suppose he’s waiting in the rain, is he?” you said.

“no, i don’t think he is.”

it didn’t make sense, none of what happened afterward – the decision to face him instead of making off into the chilling night. your arms crossed in a quiet and peculiar motion, clutching the coupe a bit too tight.

“whiskey?” henry offered, and you felt like the silly ingénue in some high-brow noir thriller donning all that cashmere by the door, “or bourbon.”

“fine.”

a crease of his eyebrow – the sole indication of surprise. your jacket found its rightful place on the rack along with that dreaded scarf. hesitance was unfamiliar to you, as you had not known it growing up – neither a sense of propriety nor a loss of footing. the dandy act had been adopted and perfected to such a degree that to relinquish the mask itself was oddly relieving, the discomfort born merely by knowing that francis was aware of your unusual situation and the upcoming events that would take place once the theater was done. there was a brief thought to how henry might’ve perceived you then. perhaps the removal of a layer of pretense might’ve intrigued him, if anything.

you remained at a slight distance and watched him traverse his domain, stepping around the askew items left behind by bunny and a bottle of gin haphazardly upended by charles, warm by the fire. there was an anomalous sort of patience to him. the silence was an abrasion. so often, you found yourself chattering to fill the void, even with other men who took the shape of strangers.

“there’s quite a storm brewing,” you said, only to be met with more silence. when your words simpered, the feeling they left was inexplicably ominous. ‘all that is transitory is but a symbol,’ yet only a bad poet would dare to draw a soliloquy from henry’s figure by the flames.

thus, you sat down on the couch, still warm from francis, and held up the beloved champagne coupe. henry’s hand did not tremble as it poured, but your fingers quivered when his attention fell onto you.

“is it good?”

you never felt the alcohol, only the burning in the back of your throat.

“very,”

he found himself beside you, not too close. the distance was not unlike orpheus’ journey, or so it appeared in the dim firelight – the familiar pangs of the unwilling, the sudden, selfish urge of wanting to see him in his entirety, his visage unhindered

“may i?” you asked, meaning, of course, his cigarette. he acquiesced easily. the only telltale of his everlasting unbothered mien: his focus had, and always seemed to be, too acute. it was enough to unnerve anyone. flattering, perhaps, if only you could tell what he was thinking, but you never could.

in your lap, the half-empty coupe. you left a smudge of your lipstick on the cigarette butt. henry inhaled. it was not unlike a kiss.

“francis mentioned you didn’t want to see me,” you said.

“i didn’t,” he responded.

“a lie, was it then?”

“you assume to know?”

“yes.”

another drag. smoke parted his mouth, slow as molasses and heavy as clouds.

“you’ve changed,” you said.

conversation with henry had always been difficult, before and after your frequent follies in the dark. if you did speak, it was never about one another, or anything that resided past skin and bone, nestled somewhere in the marrow, only felt. in instances where you did find common ground it was only ever art – literature, specifically, and when he was in a good mood, painting. henry only had one fascination and refused to entertain others; here lied his fatal flaw. thus, in a crowd of three and more, you could exchange remarks that would seem and sound important but held no real meaning.

“what sort of change have you noticed?” henry murmured. the lighting cast shadows. his hands twitched.

you were not sure, as you remembered him in much more detail and color. here, ashen-faced and obscured, all you saw was the ghost of his image, as though he had grown morose in a way that a single season could not alter. the greek class had often suffered for the aesthetic – self-imposed punishments of grandeur and excess that to everyone outside their circle seemed quite ridiculous, along with their dark clothes and mysterious miens and enigmatic jokes. some said they were haunted or blessed, but none envied them. alas.

troubled is the closest you could find, though if you were to voice it, he might take you for a child. it was never good to seek out his vulnerability. he would say you could never find it, and, inevitably, it would end up being the truth. henry wasn’t good at love. no one of were.

you shrugged, “you’ve become quiet.”

“am i, now?”

“more so than you’ve been,”

“perhaps you’ve just gotten better at listening,”

“unlikely,”

henry cocked his head. his hand, once again, twitched and there was an urge to reach out and grasp his fingers – some sort of absolution or at least a consolation for something neither one of you might’ve cared to mention. never did the man in front of you appear unsure, yet somehow, despite his best effort to the contrary, you felt a similar trepidation of an undefined thing.

henry was impossible to read. not just a mystery, but undeciphered in ways so beyond the mundane. over the years, you had collected enough clues to form a humble dictionary, yet much of what was missing could only be determined through his own misfortune and complacency – things which would, then, by nature and by fate, stray into your arms.

it did not matter, not entirely, at least. you did not love henry, but you thought that camilla did, and he, in turn, her. once you exhausted your inspection, perhaps you would pass that glossary to her, though you doubted that she would ever find any use for it.

“well,” henry said, “i suppose that’s to be expected. anything else?”

“would you enjoy a dissection?”

henry hummed, perhaps in agreement or curiosity, but it was very possible that he thought you foolish.

“no need,” he said, “yours is transparent.”

“really?” you countered, “they never are. people, i mean.”

“who are you thinking of?”

your mind drifted to bunny, likely curled on the cold tiles of the bathroom. with the first few buttons of his shirt popped and tie loosened, there was the picture of one not withering away but merely on the incline of a steep and lonely hill. all quiet in the dark of a windowless room from which he couldn’t even turn his head and see the stars.

it felt as though he would wake soon and interrupt. his presence always breached spaces he did not occupy, and the anticipation of his arrival always lingered in the air, unspoken but palpable. perhaps bunny would always exist in the shadowy corner-room between you and henry, because, if what francis said was true, henry was the first to know of it and had you, still.

you wondered if he regretted it, if he felt like brutus sticking the first knife into caesar’s rib, closest to the heart. you considered asking: in that moment, the urge felt insurmountable. instead, you said, “a little bit of everyone.”

inclined, you caught his gaze. an abysmal color and a disorienting shade, as deep and gloomy as the woods surrounding mount cataract.

“and me?”

“of course,” you smiled and slid a bit closer, “it’s not like you to ask. have you become sentimental?”

“not exactly,” his eyes moved to his hands. then, the flecks in the fireplace, the piles on the floor, “i’ve been thinking.”

“care to elaborate?”

“no,” he said. you understood his need for privacy, and a small part of you could appreciate his effort, or maybe, rather, that you got something of an answer at all. he did, occasionally, tend to disappear in thought. he remained, despite his reluctance, sitting with you. this, in a way, spoke more to you than the words that could never leave his mouth.

“this weather makes a body wistful,” you told him, “and the greek have always liked their tragedies.”

he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth before lighting another cigarette, “what do you know of greek?”

always the same argument. always the same contradiction. your attraction was tempestuous, and so, it should have surprised you neither the sudden bite or the wicked sense of amusement.

“all that any student would, naturally,”

“so, nothing,”

“i suppose,” you would not admit, for he would win, “henry,”

something in his posture betrayed him, but it was not his eyes, nor his tone, “yes?”

you were close then, much closer than you were moments ago. his lips thinned in a brittle, noncommittal line and his eyes drooped – more of a warning than anything.

“are you going to kiss me?” you asked.

he wanted to, he must’ve, for it had been the only sensible action – you always pressed for what would hurt least. to drown and swallow poison. it was a favorite, and, for some reason, one he allowed, like an agreement reached. to your knowledge, he only ever let himself indulge in you.

henry only leaned in, which was enough for you. his mouth, a second, not any less tantalizing than the first. and you had kissed him with a brazen softness, enough that his hands snaked to grasp the back of your neck. another hit. the smoke and ash settled deep in your lungs. you had pushed it out in a groan when he dropped his hands to your thighs, pressing hard and confident as he had on those nights when you found each other too lonely. the ache he created was wonderful.

you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled it until it untucked. he swallowed and whispered in a language you were familiar with but couldn’t speak, and lifted your skirt.

you kept the cigarette between your teeth as he mouthed down your jaw and neck. his finger traced the skin at the back of your knee and that tickling spot right below your ribs. goosebumps rose and followed his touch. he nipped at the crook of your neck and dragged you onto his lap.

“you are dressed far too heavily, and terribly,” you heard him say, and when his lips found the shell of your ear, you could not stifle the shiver. the whole room felt claustrophobic, hot and steamy, like the aftermath of a scalding bath. your breaths grew labored. you closed your eyes against it and clawed into his arm.

henry said, again, this time more slowly and with a dull emphasis, “terribly.”

“how dare you insult my taste,”

“would you allow for a remediation of my sins?”

“luckily, i’m in an agreeable mood.”

henry’s own sigh was long and somewhat labored, as though a great pressure had been taken off him. and his hands flexed, moving up and down your back. a rare instance, to find him restless. you could admire this in private.

the press of lips to your neck. the collarbone, jutting sharp in the firelight.

there was the urge, sudden and quite novel, to caress his face, cup his cheek, graze the edge of the scar of the eye that’s colder than its twin, that shrouds you in a mist. such an act was outlawed, naturally, thus, the opportunity came and went, carried away on a drafting wind of smoke. an irredeemable misfortune, and you flicked the cigarette into your abandoned coupe.

“are you comfortable?” the gentle cadence of his voice sent a wave through the warmest depths of your abdomen.

“yes.”

henry, having brushed away your stockings, stroked at the insides of your thighs. there was a light feeling in your head, an almost dizzying sway. a subtle rocking, like boats at port, from where the two of you were perched. his digits dug into the firm meat. beneath his hands, a stretch of burning skin and sinew. muscle clenched and quivered, “terribly inconvenient, by the way.”

“how do you mean?”

“all the layers,” he muttered.

“good,”

“never good,”

and then, suddenly: “are you wet?”

“if you touched me properly, you could tell,”

henry ignored your response. his hand climbed upward, and found a place between the gusset and the middle seam, rubbing, testing.

“recently,” you said, “i’ve become fascinated with joseph cornell.”

“you’re stalling,” henry informed you without inflection, slipping a finger through the damp center. a harsh noise of pleasure left you when his tongue slid between your lips. one, then two, circling and sinking with the utmost delicacy.

“why? are you not curious to hear what i think of his boxes?” you managed, halfway.

another stroke. his thumb rubbing, slow and considerate, in the spot that makes your toes curl, tight and demanding. when his eyes opened and found yours, it was almost comical – his fingers in you, mouth and mind on a completely different path, yet the connection was there all the same. even more so, while trying to be detached, fumbling over buttons and laces.

“no,”

“you might learn something,”

he quirked a brow, “you truly wish to waste time talking?”

“aren’t you?”

“i am taking an assessment of your willingness to submit,”

“are you certain it’s not the other way around?”

henry rarely responded with malice; each action was carefully devised and, in conjunction, quite merciless. in this case, he dropped his hand from the vee of your legs and tugged at his shirt collar. the emptiness was startling, as was the feeling of tension that coiled tightly in your gut. then, he grabbed his drink and sipped from the sparkling glass. petty revenge, something he always assured was beneath him.

sensing defeat, you decided to placate him. after a dramatic roll of your eyes, you slipped onto the ground and knelt.

“henry,” you began, and reached for the fly of his pants. the outline of his cock was obvious beneath the smooth fabric, thick and promising, “home ruler,” in one instance of drunken curiosity, the lot of you agonized the meaning of your names, that perhaps they, somehow, unknowingly dictated your fate, “unwilling to shed his crown. is the head not heavy? most kings lost theirs, you know.”

“flattery doesn’t suit you.”

“folly, then,” you replied, dragging the flat of your palm across his groin and taking pleasure in the strained hiss, “are you going to let me do as i please?”

“i think that is,” at the peak of his inhale, you reached into his trousers and curled your fingers around his stiff cock, “quite apparent.”

you grinned, lazy but triumphant, thumbing the blunt ridge. smudging the dribble of white at the leaking head and reveling in his restrained reactions: the minute tremors, the twitch of his jaw, a gasp caught in his throat. you would have kissed him, again. his face might’ve twitched, something uncontrollable that would’ve given away his longing, if only he hadn’t pushed it down.

with a slow pump, your hand traveled. the size was admirable, familiar, nearly to the point of nostalgia. henry had touched more parts of your body than some of the lovers you took as an earnest attempt for passion. you had begged him once, half-gone, half-wild with what you thought was need and impatience, to only fuck you – without his clever mouth and his careful hands, but he hadn’t said yes, no, had only grabbed your jaw and pressed a sucking kiss to the soft and sensitive skin beneath your ear. a promise, almost. and in a way, it had been.

“you remember?”

henry’s voice snapped you to attention, and when you looked up, his expression matched his darkened eyes, intense. something flared hot and needy in you, and with it, the desire to be open and dripping for him. he curled a hand in the small hairs on the back of your neck, stroking the skin there and, even briefly, allowed himself an indulgence in the pleasure he could get from a single touch, and rocked his hips.

“vividly,” you told him.

the flames, behind you, cast him entirely in silhouette, and his shadow projected forward and rose tall, stretched. a ruler, indeed.

his chest moved slow and purposefully, and when he released your hair, the lack of contact felt like a shock to the system. his hand closed around your forearm, “come here.”

the tone, hoarse and hushed and so quietly demanding, startled you, and you stood up so quickly that your head spun. henry placed his hands on your hips, steadying, ushering you back to where you belonged.

“just there.”

legs, parted, framing his waist. fabric, bunched between your thighs. breathing, slowed. a firm, calming weight, pinning you down. the firelight glinted in his eyes.

“henry,” you called. and the only thing to signal his movement was a bob of his adam’s apple. the cufflinks of his sleeves swayed and flickered. he hummed, neither affirmation nor disagreement and entered you with a grunt.

more. skin flushed. eyes crinkled and tightened. more. nails curled and scrabbled for purchase.

there, your name on his lips. it was disorienting – not so much a cry, or a whisper, but something between the two. henry always spoke carefully, as though each word should carry the most weight, so each syllable, in turn, he would construct and cut, meticulous and mathematical. but here, breathless and wanting, they rolled out in a steady litany, never faltering.

all fire and scorching, the pitch of it high and needy. to thrust and bruise, the idea fizzed bright and brilliant at the apex of your spine. with each snap of his hips, a part of him carved a piece of you out, and each ragged noise shook loose a piece of your skin. it would fit him perfectly. then he would slide right into those hollow spaces that swelled and throbbed, expanding beyond tolerance. in moments like these, you loved him – his body, his touch, his face, everything that could not be articulated.

“please,” you begged him, trying to curl around the ache, “i want-”

“i know, i know,” he murmured, with a tilt of his head. his hair, you noticed, had lost its immaculate shape, wild and frazzled by your fingers. your heart swelled and contracted: you wanted to do it again, over and over until his whole countenance resembled nothing more than that of a ravaged man. your power, the only thing you had over him. henry closed his eyes.

“spread your legs a little wider,”

a moan slipped when his tongue flicked and curled against the side of your neck, wet and sloppy. the sweet roll of his hips, his fingers pulling at the buttons of your attire and squeezing the fleshy swell of your buttocks. it was always too much.

you licked your lip, shaking when his teeth gently pinched. and, for a moment, the smell of pine permeated the room. as though it were his own sweat and the heady musk of his natural scent, and not a waning bottle of cologne.

“hold onto me,” henry whispered and allowed for nothing more, driving the movement out of your hands. the tempo spiraled upward. at the center, the tension was building. there was a moment of vertigo.

and it was easy enough, as things had always been between the two of you, to ignore the disjointed voices in the back of your mind. how when you two first kissed, it’d been without grace. how the rain fell, trickled, all around you, drowning the dryness in your throat. how the next day, he asked if you would regret what you’d done. and here, now, a different but striking feeling: the warm haze brought on by alcohol, his palms were hot, slick with sweat, his belt digging into you.

henry grunted and swore to a god neither of you had put much faith in. the flush on his cheeks was impossible not to reach out and touch, his eyebrow scarred with the same sort of smooth texture and fading red, his lashes, long and fine, flickering against the high edge of his cheekbones. i love you, you wanted to tell him, but the high struck you ruthlessly, turning you to liquid.

in the aftermath of this brief paradise, you shared a look.

“i still despise this weather,” you said.

henry’s mouth quirked. and what had been the impulsive dalliances of two desperate people became, once more, two lonely creatures with enough distance between to fill one of henry’s beloved epics. the quiet, in the wake of catharsis, was rather terrifying, and the clatter outside – the rain, the wind, and the cold – almost accusatory. he offered you a cigarette.

you took it without thank you and let him light it.

“should i drive you home?” he offered, voice raspy. his shirt had wrinkles and his collar sat funny. the skin beneath was pink, and there was the barest mark where you had sunk your teeth or dug a nail too hard. you bit the end of the filter, watching the flame waver before rising into ash.

“you’re drunk,” it felt necessary to remind him, though it never stopped him.

“do you want me to drive you home?” he asked again. a long pull and a thin veil of smoke.

“yes,” you said, “i’ll go wake bunny.”

“no,”

“no?”

“stop it.”

“stop what?”

“speaking of him,”

“has he done something?”

silence.

“henry?”

“leave it,” he said, but his tone was tight.

“alright. i’ll get my coat, then,”

“of course,” he murmured, standing slowly. you shouldn’t have seen him put his hand against the wall to steady himself, as though any drunken spell had fled, and with it, his equilibrium. the movement was both conscious and contrived, a fact of necessity, and not like the rest of him, braced by his surroundings and firm in stature. a self-constructed illusion, designed to project a set of attributes meant to create the atmosphere of authority. he embodied it well, but he was still, stripped of the mythos, simply human.

you watched him settle and raise his head with a gentle exhale. a mere lift of his shoulders, and he resembled a man in control, content, satisfied – everything henry was, and yet, within the façade, you could see the truth of his discomfort, recently, and without fault, brought upon by an uttered name.

in the upcoming months, you would understand and wonder if there was something you could have done or said to warn him of a future that was inevitable. no matter how many nights you had spent distressing over this question, the answer would always make itself obvious.

there was nothing you could have ever done.

thank you for reading !

[messylxve]

love, life, and death | spencer reid x reader

content warnings: references from episode 7x23; mentions of bombs, death, fear of dying; alcohol consumption; love confessions; mutual pining; tooth rotting, heart-stopping, painful fluff

You never thought you feared death.

You faced it every day; between gruesome images of victims, talking down sociopaths with a gun and nothing to live for, and whatever else your job threw your way, you thought you had a handle on your perception of death.

But in those moments with only seconds to spare, with yours and Will’s life on the line as you struggled to disable the bomb strapped to his chest, you were forced to realize that you weren’t invincible.

It was like your brain split in two, one side trying to decipher the secret code within a code and the other half mourning over everything you never did.

You didn’t realize that list was so long.

You weren’t going to give up. You couldn’t give up. JJ needed her husband and Henry needed his father. So you pushed your brain harder and harder, as the clock ticked on and on.

And when you finally got past both timers on the bomb and fell back to sit on your legs, no words to say, you realized only one person was clouding your mind.

“You avoiding me?”

You tried to conceal your reaction to the sudden presence in front of you, but based on the smug smile slipping onto Spencer’s lips, you could guess he caught it.

You took a sip from your glass of champagne before speaking up. “What makes you think that?”

“You’ve danced with everyone else tonight,” he mused, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Even Hotch.”

You now held your glass with both hands as if it could prevent you from stepping back onto the dance floor. “That doesn’t mean I’m avoiding you, per se.”

“So then if you’re not avoiding me, you’ll dance with me?”

Spencer watched in amusement as you stammered over your words before inching over to your glass of champagne, slipping it out of your hands.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he grinned, placing the glass down carefully on the ground.

Before you knew it, you were dancing with him, your smile broad on your face and a fluttering in your stomach. The two of you mostly swayed carelessly to the beat and he’d occasionally spin you and as Penelope would laugh with you from where she stood a few feet off with Derek.

“Do you trust me,” he asked, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I think so?”

You weren’t even given a chance to question it before he suddenly dipped you, a playful shriek-turned-laugh leaving you.

“Spencer!”

His smile shone brightly, highlighting his cheeks a soft pink now. “What?”

He awaited your response, but all you had to say was spoken with your eyes. The way you looked at him was so glaringly obvious to everyone but evidently the two of you.

There was once a time where your would have upright denied any feelings you had for Spencer, explaining he was strictly a coworker, maybe a good friend at best.

At some point after that you let it slip that you did find him attractive and Penelope would never let you live that moment down.

Sometime after that, you’d had let your guard down; let yourself dwell too much into all of the things you loved about Spencer Reid. Before you knew it, you had realized you were completely and utterly infatuated with the genius.

But it wasn’t until those moments that you thought were your last did you truly allowed yourself to realize what it was you felt for Spencer.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

The music slowed and with it your dancing. The two of you were close, his cheek touching yours, the hand on his shoulder moving down and closer to his heart. You found solace in hearing the steady beating of it.

“My thoughts run for at least a dime,” you joked softly.

“Well,” Spencer hummed, the felling of it vibrating under your palm. “I think Rossi can cover the difference.”

You didn’t laugh, but instead smiled and rested your chin on his shoulder, your head tilted ever so slightly towards his. “You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die?”

On a normal day, Spencer would have had some factoid of sorts for that statement, but today, he had settled on a simpler word.

“Yeah.”

A sigh escaped you as you searched for your words. “There was only one second left on that bomb.”

You swallowed thickly, moving back to look Spencer in the eye. “I never believed that you’d see your entire life summed up into a few mere seconds, but somewhere between that 15th second and the final one, I did. I kept thinking of everything I never got to do and…”

You let out a semblance of a laugh. “It was a lot…but…there was one thing I never did that I can’t believe it took me nearly dying to realize.”

Spencer’s question asked itself, just in the way he was looking at you. In the way his grip on your waist tightened by just a fraction.

“From the day I met you, you fascinated me. From way you think, and express yourself to the way you care so passionately about the people you love. And—and I wish I could say I love you the same way I love Emily or Derek or even Hotch, but I don’t. What I feel for you exceeds the definition of friendship and I used to be embarrassed for feeling so much for one person. But now…I’m only embarrassed it took me facing death to realize it.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears in your eyes until the warmth of Spencer’s touch reached your cheek, wiping them away.

He spoke your name so quietly, stricken speechless for the first time in his life, but you continue.

“I love you Spencer. I’m in love with you. And I don’t care if you feel the same way. I just can’t handle the pain of dying…and never telling you.”

Your heart now beat rapidly in your own chest, slamming on the bars that was your ribcage as you now sat there vulnerable as ever.

He said nothing at first, but instead moved forward in your hold. His hand abandoned yours and instead circled you into a hug where his head rested upon your shoulder and yours on his.

“I met you one-thousand eight-hundred and twenty-two days ago, you know.”

A shuttered breath escaped you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t until seven-hundred and thirty-two days after, that I realized I loved you though.”

You found yourself moving back from his arms, your hands settling on his chest and his on your waist.

“It wasn’t as grand of a reveal as realizing it after diffusing a bomb but…doesn’t make it any less true.”

You didn’t know what else to say, so for the first time in a long time you listened to your heart and let yourself melt into his embrace as you kissed him.

taglist: @khxna @mackannkees

[yellowbunnydreams]

The Blood Runs Thicker (part 16) ~vampire!William Afton x F! Reader~

~I was meant to be writing Bunny Ears but I am getting so incredibly frustrated with how it's turning out and I'm not prepared to force myself into compliance and publish something that I'm not happy with. Sorry but hopefully I can clear my head and write it soon!~

Tag-List; @ruh--roh-raggy @randymeeksisafinalgirl @sleepy---head @robin-the-enby @hungrhay @likoplays @slxsher-whxre @nicolezghostz @spiderlilytengu @yondus-girl @puppetstr1ings

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

CW:Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - ??), graphic acts of violence, biting, knife-play, blood, blood-drinking/licking, mention of dead children, anaemia. Mentions of torture. Drama/Angst. Possessive behaviour. Descriptions of a medical nature and disability.

The tension in the quaintly decorated living room almost left a metallic taste in your mouth, unlike the taste of copperish pennies you had somewhat become accustomed to running into in the last however long it had been since you came into William Afton's care, this one carried something cold and acrid behind it. Nobody seemed comfortable.

Faded floral curtains and pillows, dumpy worn out couches and worn out wooden furniture that were cluttered with poorly made clay sculptures that you couldn't even tell what they were meant to be and framed photos that had started to turn sepia in the years of sunlight told of a life well lived and fulfilled. But something about it was...odd. Off. A carefully wandering eye could pick up the dust that could no longer be reached, or perhaps it was no longer cared about. First aid kits and boxes of medications were tucked away out of first impressions line of sight, an unnerving amount of drugs for a singular man to have possession of, photos that looked like they had been folded and partially hidden away. The magazines on the table twenty years or so out of date, locked in a time perhaps happier for the family who lived there.

And then there was Henry Emily himself.

You could make out that once upon a time he was probably strong and wirey. His green eyes carrying an almost unnerving sharpness to them despite the skin that started to be marked with liver-spots and form a paper-thin barrier against the world, bent back and sallow cheeks. Greyish hair unkempt not in a playfully curly way, but like he hadn't had the energy to brush it in a while.

Even the tea he had made for you all seemed weak and cold in your hands as you cradled it between your palms.

"How is the tea?" He finally spoke after what had seemed like forever in silence. Making you jump at the sudden noise before you made a non-commital noise of affirmation. Those green eyes never wavering from William's face even though he was clearly addressing the pair of guests.

"It's..it's what I needed, thank you Mr. Emily." Was your polite reply, taking a sip of the lukewarm beverage and trying to hide your distaste as William brought it to his lips too and you watched as he managed to keep a strong poker face whilst drinking it down in only a few gulps. You were beginning to envy the fact that the vampire couldn't taste.

"Quit staring at me Henry, you're freaking your other guest out if not me." William's gravelly voice broke through and Henry blinked for what felt like the first time in hours.

"You're dead William. You were declared dead over twenty years ago."

"A common misconception."

"'A common misconception'? Misconception?! I remember them dragging the lakes nearby for your body! You disappeared, Clara had fucked off to how knows where and Michael and Elizabeth disappeared shortly after you." You could hear the hurt in the older man's voice as it wavered slightly, watching him swallow hard. You hadn't known William long in the grand scheme of things, but you could tell he was intensely uncomfortable with the way his eyes unwaveringly lingered on some loose threads on the arm of the couch rather than his old friend.

"You were declared dead?" You asked, receiving a stern look from the vampire before he sucked at his teeth. He supposed that Henry's own daughter would have been a little older than you were, he honestly had found it harder to keep track of the ages in his old life the longer it had been since he interacted with it.

"Again, a misunderstanding. I simply needed....to remove myself for a little while."

"You disappeared when your family needed you William. When I needed you." Henry swallowed again as William finally brought his eyes up to meet Henry's like they were old friends once again, that lingering feeling like somebody was supposed to be there with him finally at peace for a multitude of reasons, although he would never admit it.

"I'm sorry."

Henry stared incredulously at the man before him. William Afton did not look different to the last time he saw him, not a day over. He seemed to occasionally glance towards the daylight lamp that the Emily house sported by the medicine cabinet, and then wince away like it hurt him, and Henry certainly didn't recall anybody that would have been around to produce somebody like you. You seemed almost the polar opposite of his former best friend, although you carried your own reserved posture that made Henry wonder what you too had lost. Glancing back at William and then back at you, Henry pursed his lips before speaking again.

"Is this your..." He asked, gesturing his hand vaugely before Afton snorted and shook his head, leaning back in the seat and crossing his arms.

"Really Henry? No, she's not my kid, she's....Look, we're travelling together right now, she's been a life-saver." You glanced at the vampire and wondered if he was feeling alright. The closest thing you'd had to a compliment from him, aside from when he had called you pretty in that always slightly demeaning way like it was your only redeeming quality.

"Right...Aren't you going to ask about Charlie then? It's...It's been a while, she was still in the hospital when you left." William stiffened slightly next to you, and you recalled Elizabeth mentioning somebody called Charlie when you had unfortunately met.

"I wasn't aware that she had..."

"No. The doctors have said she'll never walk again, she can't speak. I can only pray that she isn't stuck in her own mind."

The silence was deafening, William's stony, sculpted face twitched with hints of many emotions that you couldn't decipher in that moment, but you said nothing. Henry obviously wasn't aware of what William was, and mentioning it could damage whatever frail olive branch either man had, but you swore for a split second that Afton's face was riddled with guilt.

"I'm sorry, Henry." Henry's face softened as he looked down at his hands, wringing them together as he seemed to contemplate something for a moment before sighing.

"Me too, Will."

Looking between the two men, you saw Afton's expression softening in a way that it never did when he looked at you. There was an unexplained pang in your chest at the realisation, that you had started developing sincere feelings for William Afton despite all you had been through thanks to him, but that they would never be returned as you watched the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled at Henry sadly. The lopsided smile that revealed dimples and smile lines.

You had almost forgotten that you were a convenience for him.

The sound of an alarm going off near to Henry was what made you jump out of your pity party, seeming to Snap William out of whatever his thoughts were too as Henry pulled out his phone whilst muttering an apology and pressing the screen to dismiss the alarm, sighing and running his fingers through his lack-lustre curls.

"Sorry, that's my alarm to remind me to go and get Charlie into bed. I should-"

"How about I go and get her sorted?" You offered, watching both of the older men blink slowly in surprised before Henry's shoulders relaxed a little more. "You two seem to have a lot to talk about and catch up on, I don't mind."

"Are you sure? She can be quite heavy..."

"I've dragged William's drunk ass home, I'm sure Charlie will be fine." Giving a warm smile and watching William scowl before Henry's laugh distracted him. Devolving into a rattling cough after a moment that made the taller man move couches and gently pat his friend's back in a soothing motion. You supposed that once, he had been a dad after all. But you left them to it, William comforting Henry as they said nothing about his frail condition.

Despite the fact that you never got directions from Henry, you somehow managed to find your way through the house, something whispering in the back of your mind like it had when you first arrived at Freddy's.

That did not leave you with a good feeling.

--

The whirr and beep of medical devices alerted you to where you needed to be, seeing a woman who looked closer to Elizabeth Afton's age than yours sat in a wheelchair, staring at a TV that seemed to be playing a random channel that it had been switched onto at some point. You recognised it as being a kid's channel, but now her gaunt features were illuminated by the static screen that apologised for the end of scheduled programming.

You could see from what little of the room that wasn't taken up by the large hospital bed and moving equipment, that the room was a shrine to when Charlie Emily had come to be as she was now. Faded pink walls and brighter outlines on the paint where butterfly stickers had once been placed with care, a beaten up white dresser that now stored medical supplies rather than the colourful outfits of childhood. She was rail thin, pale, but her dark hair was immaculate and she was dressed in comfortable, clean clothing that showed no sign of being distressed in any way.

It was clear that despite his own complications, whatever they were, that Henry took immense care of his daughter.

As you grabbed the handles on the wheelchair to move her closer to the bed, you noticed the way her hair sat against the back of her neck wasn't quite right. Frowning, you brushed the hair aside and felt your fingers pausing as you revealed a slightly mangled, but large scar across the back of her neck. Almost like something had grabbed at four separate points and dragged inwards, Charlie gave a tiny twitch as you touched them, and you felt sorry for whatever had happened to the young woman.

"Sorry Charlie, I offered to put you into bed for your dad." You offered your name, like she was going to respond as she continued to stare blankly ahead, blinking slowly like her papery lids were heavy against her sunken sockets.

'You're the first person in a while to actually speak like I'm a person.'

Your head whipped around, searching for the voice. Heart pounding in your chest as a cold breeze brushed across the back of your neck. You knew that you had felt something off, but this wasn't the sort of confused, sad feeling that seemed to accompany the ghosts of Freddy's, including Evan. No, this seemed sad still, but far more....bored?

"Charlie?"

'In the...Well, I would say flesh, but that would sort of be a lie wouldn't it?'

You stopped looking after a moment, and then you saw her. A greyish shape from the corner of your eye that only certain features could be made out from. Dark, curled hair, a green t-shirt. It seemed to flicker and fluctuate between being small like a child and larger like the physical body in front of you.

"But you're not dead....and you're not surprised I can hear you." The tone was perhaps slightly accusatory as you gently reached under her body and picked her up with a grunt, placing her onto the bed and jumping slightly as you realised the eyes had rolled over to focus on you.

'No, I'm....between. Didn't quite die, but I'm not exactly living it either, am I? I suppose I've always hoped that somebody could hear me, dad just thinks he's imagining things when he occasionally picks up on it.' Charlie shuddered again as the grey shape passed by, the eyes rolling about slowly in the sockets and you watched as her left hand twitched slightly, though nothing more as the shape passed onto the other side of the room. Constantly in your peripherals.

"I... I suppose you've sort of aged with your body then?" Hearing what might have been a laugh from the not-quite ghost who seemed rather invested in communicating with you, and you weren't sure you blamed her, seeing the way her physical body was before you whilst you tucked in the covers carefully around her.

There was no answer for a moment, but you felt the cold circling around near by. It was always a strange feeling when the ghosts were around, but you had sort of gotten used to the few times that it had popped up. Charlie was the one. aside from Evan, who had lingered most, and you were curious if she could articulate what had happened to her.

'Sort of. It's a bit weird....'

'Can I ask a question....or rather a favour?'

"Sure, what do you need? Not to be stuck on the kid's channel all day? Are you in pain?" You asked, side-eyeing the ghost as you brushed some dark hair from her physical face.

'Can you get Uncle Will to finish the job that he started twenty years ago?'

"What do you mean?" Brow furrowed in confusion as the woman in front of you gave a shuddering sigh, like the ghost influenced her still physical and alive body.

'I want him to actually kill me this time.'

[spaceagebachelormann]

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

!!REQUEST REQUIREMENTS!!

-> state the character, romantic or platonic, the format of the request, and a plot

-> do you have any specifics for the reader? blonde, poc, male, neurodivergent, etc? (please keep in mind i will write poc readers but i’m white so they may be a little difficult for me)

-> requests are preferred to be sent through inbox, but i can make dms work if needed

-> PLEASE ACTUALLY SPECIFY WHAT YOU WANT WITH YOUR REQUEST!! ITS VERY HARD FOR ME TO WRITE “____ x reader fluff” GIVE ME A PLOT LINE

!!WHAT I WILL WRITE!!

-> platonic

-> romantic

-> familial

-> any gender x any gender

-> headcanons

-> long fics

-> multi character

-> blurbs

-> poly relationships

-> x reader

-> i will only write cheating if it’s a character comforting r after being cheated on, not a character cheating on r

!!WHAT I WONT WRITE!!

-> smut (i’m 15)

-> yandere

-> most aus, ask about the specific au before requesting an au

-> incest

-> age gaps

-> canonical gay/lesbian character x a man (if lesbian) or a woman (if gay)

-> song fics

-> things about ocs

-> ships

-> sunshine x grumpy tropes, i’m horrible at this trope

character list

keeper of the lost cities

sophie foster, dex dizznee, fitz vacker, keefe sencen, biana vacker, marella redek, maruca chebota, tam song, linh song, wylie endal, jensi babblos, stina heks, elwin hesledge

chronicles of narnia

peter pevensie, edmund pevensie, susan pevensie, lucy pevensie, caspian

riordanverse

percy jackson, annabeth chase, grover underwood, jason grace, piper mclean, leo valdez, hazel levesque, frank zhang, nico di angelo, will solace, reyna arellano, rachel dare, travis stoll, connor stoll, thalia grace, magnus chase, alex fierro, carter kane, sadie kane

harry potter

harry potter, ron weasley, hermione granger, neville longbottom, luna lovegood, ginny weasley, fred weasley, george weasley, sirius black, james potter, remus lupin, mary macdonald, marlene mckinnon, lily evans, dorcas meadows, regulus black, barty crouch jr, narcissa black, andromeda black, bellatrix lestrange

ride the cyclone

ocean o’connell rosenberg, noel gruber, mischa bachinski, ricky potts, jane doe/penny lamb, constance blackwood

shadow and bone

alina starkov, malyen oretsev, genya safin, zoya nazyalensky, david kostyk, tamaar & tolya, nikolai lantsov

six of crows

kaz brekker, inej ghafa, jesper fahey, nina zenik, wylan van eck, matthias helvar

the outsiders

ponyboy curtis, johnny cade, sodapop curtis, darry curtis, steve randall, twobit matthews, dallas winston, cherry valance

the hunger games

katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, finnick odair, johanna mason, cinna, effie trinket

it (2017)

bill denbrough, eddie kaspbrak, richie tozier, stan uris, beverly marsh, ben hanscom, mike hanlon

the school for good and evil

agatha, sophie, tedros, hort, hester, anadil, dot, nicola, rhian mistral, rafal mistral, clarissa dovey, leonora lesso

the land of stories

connor bailey, alex bailey, red riding hood, jack, goldilocks

scooby doo

shaggy rogers, fred jones, daphne blake, velma dinkley, thorn, dusk, luna

little women

jo march, amy march, beth march, meg march, laurie

dracula

dracula, lucy westenra, arthur holmwood, john seward, mina harker, abraham van helsing, renfield, quincey morris, jonathan harker, the brides

frankenstein

victor frankenstein, elizabeth lavenza, henry clerval, adam frankenstein, justine mortiz, ernest frankenstein, the bride

dr jekyll and mr hyde

henry jekyll, edward hyde, richard enfield, gabriel utterson, hastie lanyon, lucy harris

phantom of the opera

christine daaé, erik destler, raoul de chagney, meg giry, carlotta giudicelli

a good girls guide to murder

pippa fitz-amobi, ravi singh, naomi ward, cara ward, connor reynolds, jamie reynolds, nat da silva

the mighty ducks

charlie conway, adam banks, lester averman, guy germaine, connie moreau, fulton reed, dean portman, julie gaffney, ken wu, luis mendoza, dwayne robertson

monster high

frankie stein, draculaura, clawdeen wolf, cleo de nile, abbey bominable, ghoulia yelps, operetta, rochelle goyle, spectra vondergeist, elissabat, clawd wolf, deuce gorgon, heath burns, jackson jekyll, holt hyde, kieran valentine

the powerpuff girls

blossom utonium, bubbles utonium, buttercup utonium, brick jojo, boomer jojo, butch jojo

david bowie

david bowie, ziggy stardust, jareth, thomas jerome newton, celliers

sweeney todd

sweeney todd, anthony hope, mrs lovett, johanna todd

the rosewood chronicles

lottie pumpkin, ellie wolf, jamie volk, ollie moreno, raphael wilcox, anastacia alcroft leblanc, saskia san martin, lola tomkins, mickey tomkins, binah fae

hairspray

corny collins, link larkin, amber von tussle, tracey turnblad, penny pingleton, seaweed j. stubbs

attack on titan

eren yeager, mikasa ackerman, armin arlert, jean kirstein, sasha braus, connie springer, annie leonhardt, bertholdt hoover, reiner braun, hange zoe, levi ackerman, erwin smith, colt grice, niccolo, yelena, onyakopon, zeke yeager

daisy jones and the six

daisy jones, billy dunne, graham dunne, karen sirko, warren rhodes, pete loving/roundtree, eddie loving/roundtree, camila dunne, simone jackson

doctor who bbc

ninth doctor, tenth doctor, eleventh doctor, twelfth doctor, rose tyler, jack harkness, mickey smith, donna noble, martha jones, clara oswald, river song, amy pond, rory williams, simm! master, missy/gomez master

miss peregrines home for peculiar children

jacob portman, emma bloom, millard nulling, enoch o’connor, olive elephanta, alma peregrine

good omens

crowley, aziraphale, ineffable husbands (poly), beelzebub <3, gabriel, ineffable bureaucracy (poly), nina, maggie, nina and maggie (poly), anathema

miscellaneous characters

sarah williams, bernard the elf, rodrick heffley, varian, lisa frankenstein, the creature (lisa frankenstein)

UPCOMING FANDOMS : what we do in the shadows, star trek, american horror story, torchwood, x-men, yellowjackets

[ssa-neeks-prentiss]

Penelope Garcia x fem!reader decorating for Halloween or putting on Halloween costumes together?!? both would be so so cute!!

Note : I wrote this to cheer myself up because my friend bailed on trick or treating the day before so :( but I'm going as the queen and icon Penny :3

Penelope Garcia x tall!fem!reader

Word Count : 1.2k

You laughed at the sight of Penelope's pout, she wasn't able to reach the ceiling and she was attempting to put up orange streamers.

"Here let me do it."

Her pout dropped and she grinned at you.

"Thank you!"

You smiled in response as you took the streamer from her and went up on your tip toes to reach and stick it up. It looked slightly tacky with the blue tack easily seen against the orange, but neither of you cared. You had invited everyone over for a Halloween party that would end up with all of you going trick or treating with Jack, Henry and Michael.

You had maybe two hours until people would start to arrive and you were almost finished with decorating.

You successfully put the streamers up and helped Penelope bring the pumpkins to the dining table. It was an activity for the night, you knew the kids would enjoy it a lot and, to be honest, you would too. You had always loved Halloween, but you had never gone to the extent you had today, not that you minded. You loved seeing Penelope happy and doing this obviously did.

You watched her eyes light up as you carefully placed the pumpkins down to prevent any damages. You did so as she watched, she was precise with where she wanted each pumpkin. You followed her orders and put one pumpkin on the table before going back for another. Once the pumpkins had been put on the table, you went back to the kitchen for the tools, you made sure to put the kid friendly tools to a few pumpkins and made an internal note to direct the kids to those pumpkins.

You smiled softly as she squealed on about how cool this was going to be and how excited she was, the excitement was contagious as you could feel yourself getting more and more excited, she then took your hand and dragged you to your shared bedroom.

The two of you had decided to go cliche with matching costumes and went with an angel and devil. Penelope had chosen a white dress while you had gone with trousers, preferring those over a dress, they were a deep red and you were putting a corset over the top of a red long sleeved button up shirt, matching with red converse trainers that had little horns that you had sewn on a few days prior.

You put the costume on and finally gave in to Penelope as you let her do your makeup. It was a simple look with some red lipstick and a deep red eye shadow. You paired it with some little red horns before checking the time. Penelope did the same and groaned in frustration.

"We still have an hour!"

You smiled sympathetically. You knew she was excited and wanted time to hurry so people would get here. You smiled as you had an idea and you went to the living room, knowing Penelope would follow, and turned the music on.

As you turned to her, you saw she was looking at you with confusion on her face. You simply flashed her a smile as you held a hand out, she got the idea as she took your hand and you began to dance, going from song to song.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You continued to dance until the doorbell rang. She squealed in excitement and rushed to the door, you followed suit with your hands in your pockets. She opened the door to Hotch and his son, Jack. Jack grinned and immediately ran to you. You smiled and picked him up and rested him on your hip.

"Well if it isn't my favourite Hotchner."

He grinned as you took in his costume. It was a Darth Vader outfit and you looked up to see Hotch carrying his helmet. You grinned as you playfully spun him around and he laughed as you did so.

You playfully threw him down on the sofa as he scrambled up and begged you to do it again. You laughed as you picked him up again to spin him, you two were having so much fun, you didn't notice the bell rings again or Penelope and Hotch greeting them until you heard him speak.

"Well, well, well, the tiger has lost its claws."

Both you and Jack jumped at the sound of his voice and you half heartedly glared at him.

"This tiger will still beat your..."

You trailed off as you remembered Jack on your hip but Derek seemed to get the idea as he held his hands up in faux defeat.

"Okay! Damn!"

You rolled your eyes at him before whispering to Jack.

"Hey, should we get him back later for scaring us?"

Jack grinned and nodded before whispering to you.

"Can we get Uncle Spencer in on it?"

You nodded.

"Of course."

You grinned as you stopped whispering and you walked past Derek who seemed a little nerved by your whispering.

"I like your costume, Jack!"

"And I like yours Y/N/N!"

You smiled as you set him down on a chair in front of one of the child safe pumpkins.

"Can you be on mine and Daddy's team?"

You nodded.

"Sure! We will beat everyone else!"

Jack grinned and nodded.

"Yeah we will! When are Henry and Michael getting here?"

You shrugged in response when the bell rang again.

"I'll get it!"

You called and you smiled softly as Jack got down from his chair and followed you like a lost puppy.

To Jack's delight, the people behind the door were JJ, Henry, Michael and Will. You nodded to the two as Jack and Henry ran off to the living room together. You then held the door for the three of them and kept it open as you saw Emily. You grinned as you playfully flirted with her.

You and Emily had a similar flirty friendship that Penelope and Derek had. The two of you moved to the kitchen as you waited for the last two to arrive. You started to guess what Spencer would come in dressed as.

You didn't have to guess for long as the bell rang once again, showing both Spencer and Dave. You grinned as you held a palm out to Emily and she begrudgingly gave you five dollars. You had guessed that he would come in as Frankenstein's monster. And your guess was correct. Dave in his fashion, just came wearing his normal clothing. You walked over to Spencer as you whispered yours and Jack's plan in his ear. He grinned at you and agreed. Penelope called everyone in for the party to get started.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It was maybe an hour in as you and Hotch were scraping the guts out while Jack carefully drew what he wanted carved. He showed you and you grinned and nodded before starting to carve it out. Hotch helped as well and in no time, the pumpkin was done.

You then placed the lit candle inside and carried it out to the patio. Jack followed you and you put it down. He grinned and you stood outside, waiting for the others to finish and one by one they filed out.

You hugged Penelope close with a soft smile. Everyone crowded around the pumpkins. Your friends. Your family.

Everyone you loved was right with you.

[the-guilty-writer]

Death by a Thousand Cuts

Request from anon: Spencer x daughter!reader (like 19/20) after the JJ confession she like storms into the BAU to confront her and basically is really mad that she told him that whilst married

“He told me, about the date. I was too young but I just remember him crying.”

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to choose when he matters to you and when he doesn’t. You don’t get to tell him something like that knowing you have a family and he only has me. It was a shitty thing to do. You’re so f****** selfish”

Sorry I went off I just hate that scene it was so pointless hahha

But I need some protective daughter!!!!

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Summary: After you hear about JJ's feelings towards your dad, you tell her the truth about how you feel about her too... and it's not friendly.

A/N: This is basically just the reader yelling… I’ll let you guys imagine how the conversation afterwards might go (this will not have a part 2). I changed the dialogue a bit to have it make more sense but kept it the same for the most part. This is also unintentionally Taylor Swift inspired. The lyric just fit so I put it in.

CW: Spoilers for S15, swearing, reader is kinda really mean to JJ (it's understandable thought)

---

Trying to find a part of me you didn't take up Gave you too much but it wasn't enough But I'll be all right, it's just a thousand cuts -Taylor Swift, Death by a Thousand Cuts

---

It was a conversation that you were sure you weren’t supposed to hear… honestly, it was a conversation that your Aunt Penny wasn’t supposed to hear either. You were on your weekly phone call with her when she told you about it… what JJ had said to your dad. Well, she didn’t exactly tell you as much as you could tell something was off and then you pressed until she spilled.

At first you had kept your composure- simply saying goodbye to Penny. You’d driven peacefully from your college campus to the BAU. You were pleasant while going through the security check. It wasn’t until the elevator indicated you’d reached the sixth floor of the building that your vision went red, anger burning inside you like a fire that was burning at the edge of its confinement, blood boiling in your ears.

You stepped out of the elevator and went straight through the glass doors, not even bothering to say hello to Agent Anderson as you passed him in the hall. The team was in the bullpen, all at their prospective desks, calmly working on files when you marched your storm of anger right through the office.

“You bitch!” Your voice was filled with fury as you seemingly hurdled yourself towards JJ’s desk. “You selfish little-”

Luke grabbed you hard before you could swing your fists in the direction of the blonde woman you once would have trusted with your life. You strained against the man holding you. The sounds of voices filled the bullpen and agents were getting out of their seats but no one bothered to reach for a side arm. You weren’t a real threat.

But you didn’t need a gun to kill someone.

“(Y/N)-” Your dad’s voice stuck out to you. “What happened?”

You looked at your dad for only a split second before turning your head to meet JJ’s gaze. Both of you knew what happened. You stopped your struggle against Alvez and he loosened his grip, letting you go, but your eyes never left JJ’s.

“If there’s something you need to talk about, you can do it in my office,” Emily offered, but in your feeling of anger you didn’t want help from the woman who faked her death, leaving you and your dad to mourn her only to find out she was alive seven months later.

“How could you?” The fury was beginning to taste bitter with sadness. “How could you do this to my dad? How could you do this to Will and Henry and Micheal-”

JJ cut you off. She was calmer than you, but just as loud. “You don’t get to bring my family into this-”

“Yes I do!” you screamed. “Because I actually give a shit about people! Because for ten years Will took care of me while you guys were out on cases and Henry brought me to show and tell as his older sister when he was in kindergarten and my name was one of Micheal’s first words! So yes- I do get to bring your family into this because I care about them. I care that someone loves them because that’s what they deserve! They don’t deserve to have a wife and a mother who tells another man that she’s always loved him- especially when that man is their godfather! You don’t get to say things like that when you had the chance to do it fifteen years ago!”

JJ’s eyes were filled with tears. Her voice was meek as she spoke. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh really?” Your laugh was humorless and dry. “Because I do. I was only four at the time, but he told me about the date. I was too young to understand what was truly going on but I just remember him crying. You had your chance, JJ. You had a choice and you decided against my dad. He’s always cared about you. You could have at least told him that he mattered.”

“Your dad matters to me-”

“No!” you cut her off this time. “You don’t get to do that- you don’t get to choose when he matters to you and when he doesn’t. You don’t get to tell him something like that knowing you have a family and he has me. It was a shitty thing to do. You’re so fucking selfish. You hurt everyone who cares about you and you don’t even see it because you’re too busy making sure everything goes the way you want it to. Fifteen years ago you made a choice and you sure as hell don't get to go back on it and damage everyone around you, especially not my dad.”

The bullpen was silent, the venom in your words lingering in the air. Having said what you needed to, you turned away and walked back towards the glass doors. Before you pushed against them, you stopped and turned to glance back.

The entire team was staring at you, utterly bewildered by the events that had just transpired. The only one who wasn’t looking at you was JJ- her eyes averted from the person who had called her out on all her bullshit, every mistake she had made, every insecurity she had now out and open for everyone to see.

And some malicious part of you was happy she was in pain.

“You know,” your voice was calm now, “my mother was a bitch, but at least she was kind enough to break my dad’s heart and leave. But you, JJ? There isn't a single part of our family- our lives- that you didn't touch. You've taken everything and it's stil not enough for you, so the rest of us have to suffer death by a thousand cuts.”

Without another word you pushed open the doors and left.

[shinehalley]

Henry looked at Victor and thought "I can fix him" only to years later realize he fell into Victor's trap "I can make him worse"

[lucyswinter]

Request guidelines

Requests are : OPEN<3

Masterlist

Who/what I write for:

-Cillian Murphy/ characters: (Jackson Rippner, Tom Shelby, Neil Lewis, Jonathan Crane, Kitten Braden, Jim: 28 days later, Emmett: a quiet place part II, Raymond Leon, Robert Fischer, Tom Buckley)

-Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, JJ,

-The Bear: Sydney Adamu, Richie Jerimovich, Carmen Berzatto, Sugar Berzatto

-Saw: Lawrence Gordon, Adam Stanheight, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm, Amanda Young, Jill Tuck, Lynn Denlon (for ships: I’ll do chainshipping, coffinshipping, and shotgunshipping/lynnmanda!)

-American Horror Story (All seasons up to Cult with the addition of 1984. Only ships if they are canon (by season, I mean)! i.e: I won’t do Kit Walker (s2) x Madison Montgomery (s3) or anything! And for canon relationships, I will do any season besides NYC and Delicate as long as they are already together. For example, I would do Montana and Richard from 1984.)

-Nip/Tuck: Sean McNamara, Christian Troy, Matt McNamara, Julie McNamara, Liz Cruz, Eden Lord, Sophia Lopez, Kimber Henry

-DC villains (from the Nolan trilogy or Gotham tv show! I will specify from which one I mean. I’ll also write Batman but that’s the only “hero”/vigilante)

-Peaky blinders: Luca Changretta, Tom Shelby, Alfie Solomons, Finn Shelby, John Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Oswald Mosley

-Top Gun/ Top Gun: Maverick: any characters! (For ships, I only rlly know IceMav 😭 but I’m open to others! I’ll also do penny!reader)

-Bridgerton/ Queen Charolette: Daphne x Simon, George x Charolette, Anthony x Kate, Colin x Penelope (and all of these characters individually as well as Benedict, Violet, Eloise, and the Featherington sisters! *Edit for season 3*: Lord Debling, Lord Stirling, Lady Arnold, Lord Anderson, Francesca Bridgerton, Cressida Cowper)

-Community: Professor Ian Duncan, Jeff Winger, Abed Nadir, Britta Perry , Annie Edison, Troy Barnes

-Impractical Jokers: Joe Gatto, Sal Vulcano, James Murray, Brian Quinn

-Supernatural: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Destiel (will not do Wincest or Wincestiel)

-X-files: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, MSR

-BBC Sherlock (only JohnLock)

-Good omens (only Ineffable husbands)

-Hannibal (only Hannigram)

(Any other characters im open to! Just PM me to see if I know the fandom/media they’re in, or rec with a few options! I’ll ignore if I don’t know them <;3)

I will write: A bit ooc (depends on scenario 🤭), fluff, smut, small-ish age gap, AU’s, non romantic pairings, alternate endings, fem!/gn!/afab!reader, character x reader, character x character

I won’t write: Male!/nonbinary!/trans!reader (im a cis female so I will write gender neutral reader if requested, but most fics (unless specified) were written with a fem reader in mind :)), incest, underage reader (or character), dub/non-con

Thanks for reading! Feel free to PM requests if you aren’t comfortable sending them through the question button or want to work through the request :)

[harrisonarchive]

February 1967; photo by Henry Grossman. “George always had a very pragmatic streak. He never let the so-called glamour of show-business seduce him. He always saw through phoney people very quickly. He was the practical one, the one who could mend the amplifier or change the fuse. And he is one of the most generous people I know. If you were a friend of George in need, he would reach into his pocket and give you his last penny. Equally, if it were a matter of principle, he would defend you to the last. If ever I were in trouble, George Harrison is the kind of person I would like to be able to turn to.” - George Martin, With A Little Help From My Friends: The Making of Sgt. Pepper (1994) “There was a time in the Nineties when Dad was very sick. He was confined to bed and things were fairly touch and go for a while. George [Harrison] was wonderful, simply wonderful; he came over to visit and brought Dad a Ganesh elephant symbol, telling him it would keep him safe and well. He was such a comfort to the whole family during a difficult time. He was a very keen gardener, the grounds of his home were just beautiful, still are, and he helped Mum a lot with our garden. He would drive over to see us with as many plants as he could fit on to the passenger seat of a McLaren F1! He meant a great deal to my dad; to all of us.” - Giles Martin, Express, May 27, 2012 “I spoke to George Martin recently, and he was talking about all the ‘20 years ago today’ stuff and The Beatles CDs, and he said, 'Never mind, George. It’ll soon be gone and we can go back into our shells.’” - George Harrison, The Observer Magazine, 1987 Q: “George Martin recently admitted he still felt embarrassed about not giving you more attention in the studio. He claimed he’d been ‘beastly to George.’” George Harrison: “He wasn’t beastly to me, but he spoke to me recently and said his only regret was that he didn’t realize sooner what I was. He already had enough to deal with, I suppose, with this band The Beatles who already had two guys out there writing and singing. He didn’t really need to try because in those days most groups had their songs written for them. It was all quite new. But only this summer he said to me, Will you ever forgive me, George? (Laughs) He’s such a gentleman! It was nice of him to say that, you know.” - Q, 1988

“I said to the boys, after we’d done a few takes of rather nondescript songs, I said, ‘Come into the control room and have a listen and see what we’ve been doing. And if there’s anything you don’t like, tell us.’ And George was the one who took the leap. And he said, ‘Well, I don’t like your tie for a start.’ And the others were horrified. They thought, God, he’s blown it. But of course, I fell around laughing. I thought it was — it was so cheeky, and so funny that I… you know, he endeared himself to me.” - George Martin, Living In The Material World (x)

[femmehysteria]

Best Character Named X Poll

FOLLOW @best-character-named-x-poll

I'm doing a series of "Best Character Named X" polls where all the characters have the same first name but are from completely different media, feel free to send in name/charcacter suggestions, I'm posting one poll a day. New polls scheduled for 1:30PM GMT everyday.

ask box closed for now

WILL BE POSTING POLLS ON @best-character-named-x-poll FROM FEB 1ST

If your favourite character is not included in the poll very sorry i have either never heard of them or actively chose not to include them as theres only 6 characters per poll. Characters will only count of that is their first name, surnames do not count.

Round 85: David

Round 86: Tiffany

Round 87: Charlie

Round 88: Sandy

Round 89: Cody

Round 90: Amanda

Round 91: Jeremy

Past Polls and Poll Ideas under the cut

Names that I have a complete list for*

Caroline, Tyler, Louis, Leonard, Rebecca, Steve, Nicole, Isabelle, Victoria, Katherine, Jade, Alex, Sophie, Greg, Jake, Ellie, Isaac, Robin, Tony, Annie, Lisa, Margaret, Oliver, Clark, Kara, Phoebe, Emma, Ruby, Bart, Alfie, Beth, Julian, Nancy, Penny, Margaret, Tessa, Erica, Theresa, George, Kevin, Sebastian, Felix, Martin, Michael, Erin, Caleb, Helen, Charlotte, Kyle, Martha, Diana, Elsa, Gary, Zoe, Connor, Colin, Daisy, Eric, Maya, Adam, Andy, Magnus, Alma, Nora, Alice, Spike, Leon, Marcel, Kim, Juno, Sue, Chris, Otto, Donald, Daphne, Kate, Todd, Ned, Ken, Angel, Judy, Jo, Hazel, Naomi, Diego, Miranda, Joel, Lila, Duncan, Dexter, Meredith, Pearl, Lily, Malcolm, Napolean, Joan, Nico, Jamie, Nadia, Velma, Jill, Kiera, Rory, Evan, Tam, Klaus, Neil, Derek, Michelle, Luna, Laila, Cordelia, Zack, Imogen, Felicity, Cindy, Alicia, Kelly, Alan, April, Astrid, Delilah, Jodie, Claudia, Juliet, Karen, Jonas, Milo, Celia, Hannah, Joy, Ethan, Katya, Aria, Atticus, Ian, Cynthia, Faye, Frank, Boo, River, Corey, Gabrielle, Minerva, Ebony, Zia, Beverly, Rudy, Georgina

Names I have an incomplete list for (welcome to send character suggestions)

Richter, Sean, Troy, Cain, Agatha, Warren, Percy, Reggie, Mina, Ryan, Felicia, Dylan, Josh, Shirley, Debbie, Jared, June, Mabel, Ray, Chad, Moe, Hugh, Fearne, Christine, Joe, August, May, Scarlet, Alana, Leela, Manny, Dean, Francis, Mason, Oscar, Quinn, Guy, Ulrich, Wally, Yasmin, Tobias, Woody, Sabrina, Quentin, Margot, Alina, Matilda, Freya, Kendra, Angus, Ophelia, Leisel, Zelda, Adora, Piper, Scarlet, Sheila, Valentine, Laurie, Laurel, Fitz, Violet, Gabriel, Ford, Artemis, Owen, Bianca, Newton, Summer, Darcy, Noah, Taylor, Miriam, Hugh, Aurora, Hank, Henry, Dawn, Delia, Cosmo, Wanda, Zeke, Cecil, Aiden, Calvin, Ayesha, Beatrice, Parker, Chase, Hunter, Tina, Misty, Amaya, Amara, Harvey, Talia, Tatiana, Tanya, Orion, Eugene, Kit, Bo, Duke, Blue, Cameron, Rudolf, Mara, Marianne, Carl

Feel free to send more suggestions

*subject to change, you can still submit a character if there is no strikethrough if you think theres a character that its an absolute crime i dont add. Please don't suggest anything for the names with a strikethrough as they are polls that are already in my queue waiting to be published.

Past Polls

Round 1: Peter : WINNER: Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

Round 2: Elizabeth : WINNER: Elizabeth Swann (Pirates of the Caribbean)

Round 3: Jason : WINNER: Jason Mendoza (The Good Place)

Round 4: Eve : WINNER: EVE (WALL-E)

Round 5: Fred : WINNER: Fred Jones (Scooby-Doo)

Round 6: Rachel : WINNER: Rachel (Animorphs)

Round 7: Arthur : WINNER: Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Round 8: Amy : WINNER: Amy Pond (Doctor Who)

Round 9: Tom : WINNER: Tom (Tom and Jerry)

Round 10: Claire : WINNER: Clare Devlin (Derry Girls)

Round 11: James : WINNER: James (Pokemon)

Round 12: Max : WINNER: Max (Black Sails)

Round 13: Simon : WINNER: Simon Belmont (Castlevania)

Round 14: Jane : WINNER: Jane Crocker (Homestuck)

Round 15: Victor : WINNER: Victor Nikiforov (Yuri On Ice)

Round 16: Mary : WINNER: Mary Poppins (Mary Poppins)

Round 17: Will : WINNER: Will Graham (Hannibal)

Round 18: Laura : WINNER: Laura Palmer (Twin Peaks)

Round 19: Ben : WINNER: Ben "Obi-Wan" Kenobi (Star Wars)

Round 20: Chloe : WINNER: Chloe Price (Life Is Strange)

Round 21: John : WINNER: Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives)

Round 22: Lydia : WINNER: Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice)

Round 23: Mark : WINNER: Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

Round 24: Jess : WINNER: Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad)

Round 25: Theo : WINNER: Theobald Gumbar (Dimension 20: A Crown Of Candy)

Round 26: Sarah: WINNER: Sarah Jane Smith (Doctor Who)

Round 27: Richard : WINNER: Richard Gansey III (The Raven Cycle)

Round 28: Cass : WINNER: Cassandra Cain (Batman)

Round 29: Edward : WINNER: Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Round 30: Carm : WINNER: Carmen Sandiego (Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?)

Round 31: Hal : WINNER: HAL9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey)

Round 32: Sid : WINNER: Sydney Adamu (The Bear)

Round 33: Jack : WINNER: Captain Jack Harkness (Doctor Who)

Round 34: Stephanie : WINNER: Stephanie Brown (Batman)

Round 35: Ash : WINNER: Ash Ketchum (Pokemon)

Round 36: Veronica : WINNER: Veronica Sawyer (Heathers)

Round 37: Kurt : WINNER: Kurt Wagner aka Nightcrawler (X-Men)

Round 38: Eleanor : WINNER: Eleanor Shellstrop (The Good Place)

Round 39: Nathan : WINNER: Nathan Young (Misfits)

Round 40: Fiona : WINNER: Princess Fiona (Shrek)

Round 41: Gale : WINNER: Gayle Waters-Waters (Chris Fleming)

Round 42: Barbara : WINNER: Barbara Millicent Roberts aka Barbie (Barbie)

Round 43: Sam : WINNER: Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings)

Round 44: Grace : WINNER: Grace Chastity (Nerdy Prudes Must Die)

Round 45: Barry : WINNER: Barry Bluejeans (The Adventure Zone)

Round 46: Raven : WINNER: Raven (Teen Titans)

Round 47: Dan : WINNER: Danny Fenton (Danny Phantom)

Round 48: Mia : WINNER: Mia Fey (Ace Attorney)

Round 49: Matt : WINNER: Matt Murdock (Daredevil)

Round 50: Rose : WINNER: Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Round 51: Robert : WINNER: Robbie Rotten (LazyTown)

Round 52: Lola : WINNER: Lola Bunny (Space Jam)

Round 53: Scott : WINNER: Scott Summers aka Cyclops (X-Men)

Round 54: Olivia : WINNER: Olivia Octavious (Spiderverse)

Round 55: Finn : WINNER: Finn the Human (Adventure Time)

Round 56: Emily : WINNER: Emily Charlton (The Devil Wears Prada)

Round 57: Elliot : WINNER: Eliot Spencer (Leverage)

Round 58: Sonia : WINNER: Sonia (Pokemon)

Round 59: Gideon : WINNER: Gideon Nav (The Locked Tomb)

Round 60: Jen : WINNER: Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body)

Round 61: Miles : WINNER: Miles Morales (Spider-Man)

Round 62: Lana : WINNER: Lana Skye (Ace Attorney)

Round 63: Spencer : WINNER: Spencer Shay (iCarly)

Round 64: Tracy : WINNER: Tracy Turnbald (Hairspray!)

Round 65: Luke : WINNER: Luke Skywalker (Star Wars)

Round 66: Natalie : WINNER: Natalie Scatorccio (Yellowjackets)

Round 67: Harry : WINNER: Harry Du Bois (Disco Elysium)

Round 68: Lucy : WINNER: Lucy van Pelt (Peanuts)

Round 69: Damian : WINNER: Damian Wayne (Batman)

Round 70: Tabitha : WINNER: Tabitha Casper (Dan and Phil Games: Sims 4)

Round 71: Nick : WINNER: Nicholas D. Wolfwood (Trigun)

Round 72: Gwen : WINNER: Guinevere (Merlin)

Round 73: Paul : WINNER: Paulette Bonafonte (Legally Blonde)

Round 74: Abigail : WINNER: Abigail Hobbs (Hannibal)

Round 75: Jordan : WINNER: Jordan Baker (The Great Gatsby)

Round 76: Donna : WINNER: Donna Noble (Doctor Who)

Round 77: Morgan : WINNER: Morgana (Merlin)

Round 78: Allison : WINNER: Alison Cooper (BBC Ghosts)

Round 79: Patrick : WINNER: Patrick Star (Spongebob Squarepants)

Round 80: Linda : WINNER: Linda Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

Round 81: Philip : WINNER: Philip J. Fry (Futurama)

Round 82: Clarisse : WINNER: Clarisse La Rue (Percy Jackson)

Round 83: Jeff

Round 84: Maria

[ghoulie-67-baby]

Overtired- Criminal Minds.

Summary: Penelope is working a case in the early hours and you can’t sleep without your girlfriend by your side.

Prompts: ‘C’mere, you can sit in my lap until I’m done working.’

Warnings: fluff, Penelope being a top tier Girlfriend, Domsub (depending on your mindset), medication mentions, little angsty.

Pairing: Penelope Garcia x GN!reader.

Word count: 859.

A yawn ripped from my throat as I tossed and turned in bed. I shivered, missing Penelope's warmth in our bed, and if fed out a heavy sigh. She had been dragged out of bed because of a case and though I knew it was incredibly important, it still irritated me.

Warm light spread from the living room alongside hushed voices. I knew I wouldn't sleep until they all left so I swung my legs from the covers and slipped on my slippers. JJ had bought them for my birthday, they had cupcakes on them because that was my nickname for Henry. Yanking my gown off a hanger, I wandered towards the light. For moments, nobody noticed me standing there in my pyjamas, dressing gown hanging loosely over my shoulders.

"Hey babydoll," Derek greeted me as he spotted me, smiling softly, using the nickname that matched Penelope's. "We didn't wake you did we?" I shook my head, stepping into a hug as he held out his arms to me.

"It's okay, haven't been sleeping great anyway." I buried my head in his shoulder as I stifled a yawn.

"It's nice to see you Y/N," Pulling out f the hug, I grinned at my girlfriend's boss. "Sorry about the timing."

"You too Hotch, pretty bad case, huh?" I wandered towards the kitchen to grab some water, seeing a brief, serious nod. I could feel the irritation and lack of sleep beginning to make me antsy as I watched the team working. My eyes rested on Penelope who was sucked into her screen, working as quickly as she could despite the bags under her eyes.

"Not to sound rude but how long is this going to take?" My eyes flickered to the clock that read two thirty in the morning. Emily snickered at the question as I yawned again. I wasn't bothered about my own sleep at the moment but Penelope needed rest too and she hadn't been sleeping great either.

"Impossible to say," Rossi gave me a sympathetic smile from his seat in the armchair. My shoulders deflated at the statement, my over-tiredness starting to take over. I always got emotional when I was tired.

"You okay, Peach?" My girl looked at me with concerned eyes, patting the arm of the sofa in invitation. I shuffled over, sinking onto the arm and staring at the non-sensical codes on the screen.

"M'just tired Penny," I shrugged it off. "I'll be fine."

"Have you tried any herbal remedies? Valerian root is supposed to be good for sleep troubles alongside menopause and anxiety." My lip twitched in amusement as Spencer spoke. "A study has shown that taking five hundred and thirty milligrams of Valerian every night for thirty days has had a significant improvement in sleep quality, latency and duration compared to a placebo in people who had undergone heart surgery."

"It doesn't work, and if you're insinuating I'm going through menopause then I suggest you hold your tongue, Doctor." I teased, smiling slightly as he ducked his head in embarrassment.

"Have you had your meds, Peach?" Penelope murmured whilst she worked. "They'll help you sleep."

"No, I haven't and I won't." My voice was colder than I had intended but Melatonin never reacted well with me. "I'd rather not sleep at all than put up with nightmares thank you." Her hand lifted to rest on my thigh, squeezing it comfortingly.

"Babydoll, we've spoken about this." Derek's voice was laced with concern but firm. I didn't hold back my glare as the burning in my throat started up again from holding back tears.

"I don't care." I sounded pathetic like a child being scolded by a parent.

"Y/N that's enough," The hand on my thigh tightened in a warning and I tangled my fingers in my lap as I held back tears.

"You want me to come and sit with you whilst Penelope works, Honey?" JJ's offer was sweet but I didn't want to leave Penny's side. Shaking my head, I sunk into myself a little, looking down at my girlfriend with blurred eyes.

Placing her laptop on the table, she shifted her stuff around before looking back up at me. Hotch shuffled where he stood like he was expecting her to kick them out.

"C'mere Peach," she motioned for me to get off the arm of the sofa. "You can sit in my lap until I'm done working." I sluggishly climbed onto her lap, legs straddling hers as I leaned against her chest. I'd forgotten all about the team watching us as I buried my head into her neck and relaxed into the embrace and warmth. I didn't care that they'd witnessed the whole thing, didn't care about any opinion they formed or their reaction. I didn't care because I was warm and comfortable, the sound of keys tapping and muttering fading into the background as I found myself lulled into a state of half-sleep by her gentle breathing and occasional kiss to the top of my head.

The mix of all those stimulants had me drifting for a while before my body finally succumbed to sleep, giving up fighting the exhaustion.